I toss the wrapped loaf of bread at Haymitch's unconscious form on the couch. Ever since Rye brought the bread a few weeks ago he's come everyday with a new loaf, always warm. I know without a doubt that it must have been something Peeta made him promise to do and even though this whole process makes me unbelievably sad I don't turn Rye away. I have a feeling the whole development helps Rye deal with whatever feelings he has and who am I to upset that balance even if I can't create one myself. He bothers me, though. He's always trying to diffuse the situation with awkward humor when I'd rather he just give me whatever it is he has and then leave. Although that's more than I can say about the lump of a person in front of me.
"Haymitch," I say loudly, kicking his leg with my boot. He grumbles something and throws his arm over his eyes.
"Haymitch," I say again. "We're going to eat this together." I kick him again and he rolls over the couch and onto the floor, cursing loudly when he lands on an empty liquor bottle.
"Listen, Sweetheart, I'm touched. Really. But you need to learn that sometimes a man just needs to be left the hell alone," he grumbles.
"Is that what you told Peeta," I ask dangerously, knowing full well that I'm kicking him while he's down. I can see the understanding flash in Haymitch's eyes before it's quickly replaced with annoyance. He mumbles something that sounds like an insult before he picks himself off the floor and heads into the kitchen. I follow him and begin to clear off his dirty table.
Haymitch comes back with a knife and starts to slice the bread into pieces. While he does that, I fish the letter I received in the mail today out of my pocket and place it on the table. When Haymitch sees it he pauses and then pales slightly in the face.
"What's that?" he asks quietly. I sit down heavily at the kitchen table.
"A letter," I croak. "I didn't want to open it alone."
It's completely illogical that I am so calm right now but I attribute it to my complete emotional demise. When the Quell ended I was left with absolutely nothing, so when I received Snow's letter in the mail I barely reacted. I have yet to react because I shut myself down months ago. I can't feel anything anymore except for a crippling depression every week or so and, despite what I've been told, over the months it hasn't gotten better.
I had wondered what drove Snow to send a letter instead of actually coming to visit me. Seeing him in person would send me into the basement for weeks, I'm sure of it, so a part of me wonders what kind of game he's playing. A much larger part of me doesn't care anymore.
Haymitch stares at me for a moment before he takes the letter off the table and rips it open with the bread knife. He glances at it before reading. I close my eyes, turning the sea glass over and over in my hand until Haymitch speaks.
"Well," Haymitch finally says. "No new information here." His voice is flat and I keep my eyes closed, feeling my mind drift away from me yet again.
"What does it say?" I ask quietly.
"You want me to read it word for word?" Haymitch questions, voice strained.
"No," I respond, my eyes shooting open. There's a tingling of panic that starts to creep its way from my toes up to my hair. "Please don't. Just summarize the important parts," I explain, my voice becoming harder. Haymitch pauses for a second before glancing down at the paper.
"He says the Games will continue this August as usual. We're both expected to Mentor." I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head lightly in an attempt to clear it. The next part Haymitch says with audible disgust.
"He says he's sorry for your loss and that you've handled it quite well. He's pleased with you."
I nod mechanically. I should feel fear or loathing or anger. All I feel is emptiness. I concentrate on chewing until Haymitch and I have finished eating the entire loaf of bread. When I'm done I leave Haymitch with the letter hoping he'll know that I want it destroyed. I walk back to my house and straight into the bathroom where I vomit into the toilet. I don't sleep that night. Instead I watch the shadows creep across my ceiling, wishing I were one of them: just a shadow in the night.
Prim and Rory play checkers while I watch and turn the sea glass over and over in my pocket. I don't like to bring it out into the open anymore. No one asks me about it but I can see the questions burning in their eyes when they see me clutching it.
"You're cheating!" Rory exclaims at Prim, looking incredulously around the room.
"Am not! Just because you're terrible doesn't mean I cheat all the time!" Prim shoots back with a smile, glancing up at me. I don't return it; I think it's sates her enough that I'm finally present for a full game.
"It's ok, Prim. You're sister was the one who always cheated. Maybe that's why Rory is a bit suspicious," Gale interjects, switching his gaze towards me briefly. I don't smile at that either, even if it's something I might have done in the past. Instead I give him a minimal shrug of my shoulders. Gale comes over more frequently now that I no longer spend all day and night in my bed, even though everyone knows it's where I'd rather be.
"Katniss isn't a cheater," Prim says softly, trying to stick up for me the only way she knows how. Again, I don't respond. Rory growls frustratedly and runs his hand through his mop of dark hair. He's beginning to look more and more like his oldest brother and the small mannerisms he now displays are freakishly similar. He's still so skinny. I just wish Gale would take money I offer him on occasion. He's too damn stubborn.
Just as Prim is about to jump over Rory's black piece I hear the door swing open loudly and then slam shut. My head whips to the side and I'm surprised to see Madge, her cheeks red and her fair hair wild around her face. Madge, like Gale, comes over more frequently. Usually she sips tea and helps Prim with her homework while I watch. She doesn't, however, usually come at night. Madge pauses at the entrance to the living room, her blue eyes racing between Gale and me, who are sitting on opposite sides of the room. I can feel my brow furrow in confusion and I'm about to stand up when Madge walks purposefully across the room, grabs Gale's cheeks, and crushes her lips to his.
I feel my mouth drop open and for a moment my fingers still on the sea glass in my pocket. Gale's eyes are wide and he looks just as confused as I feel. Their lips make a smacking sound when Madge pulls away.
"You need to come with me," she says in a voice I've never heard out of her mouth before. It's not seductive, though. It's not breathy or soft. It's not the way I ever spoke to Peeta. It's urgent in a way that makes me scared.
"Huh?" Gale says, his eyes look slightly clouded over before he shakes his head and they turn hard once again. "What was that?" he asks gruffly.
"You," she says forcefully, poking a finger into his chest roughly, "need to come with me," she finishes before grabbing his hand and yanking him up off the couch. Gale sends me a befuddled glance before following Madge out the door. Through the window, I see her pull his face down before she kisses him again. Gale still looks confused but Madge doesn't waste any time. She marches down the porch steps while Gale stumbles after her.
It's silent in the living room as Prim, Rory and I process what just transpired. As the seconds pass, a creeping thickness fills my limbs until I'm almost suffocated by it. It's a feeling that paralyzes me.
Longing.
Envy.
I'm jealous. I'm extremely jealous. Of Madge. I'm jealous and resentful, not because I want Gale, but because I will never be able to kiss Peeta again. It's been two weeks since my last trip to the closet but I have a feeling that whatever just happened here will send me back.
Prim must see it in my eyes.
"Katniss," she says quietly. "Rory keeps telling me that Madge has a crush on Gale…"
I can't look at either of them. I don't know how to explain the sorrow that sits like a heavy rock in my stomach. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm OK.
"I'm going to sleep," I whisper, even though it's 7 p.m. and we haven't eaten yet. I get off the couch and clutch the sea glass tightly in my pocket.
I take the stairs two at a time and collapse onto my bed. A few minutes later I hear the door open.
"Katniss?"
It's Prim and I roll over to face the wall. I can feel the tears building up behind my eyes so I screw them shut in an attempt to keep them locked away. Prim crawls onto my bed and places a light hand on my shoulder.
I don't want to be touched.
"Please talk to me, Katniss," Prim says quietly. "You haven't talked to me in months." She says the last part a lot faster and a lot quieter than when she usually speaks so I know she's about ready to break down. I have not talked to Prim about Peeta since he died. I haven't wanted to. The only person I've actively spoken to about Peeta was Haymitch.
I am not my Mother.
I take a deep, shuttering breath.
"I can't do this anymore," I whisper. "I can't pretend that I'm OK."
I can feel Prim curl up next to me on the bed. She waits a few moments before she speaks and in that time, a few tears puddle on the side of my nose.
"I know you're not OK. And I know the reason you came up here wasn't because of Gale or Madge," she responds.
Technically it was, but I don't tell her that. All I can do is muster some sort of strange nod. The force of the action makes tears slide down my cheeks and onto my pillow. I take the sea glass out of my pocket and rest it on the side of my face. My face always feels hot when I cry so the coolness of the glass is a welcome contrast.
"I just miss him, is all," I whisper again before my body starts to shake with silent sobs. I try to pull myself together enough to get the next words out so my sister can hear them. "I don't know how to get better. I don't think I can."
I wake up bathed in light. Prim must have opened my curtains this morning. It's the first time anyone's done that in months so I'm not too surprised to see dust motes floating heavily around the room. The light is too harsh, though, so I get up and shut the curtains violently. I crawl into bed again and turn my back to the door, preferring the blank expanse of wall to my right. I don't plan on leaving my room today.
Time passes, I don't know how much, but eventually I hear a soft knock on the door. It's Prim again, obviously, but I don't have the strength to respond. Instead, I pull the covers up over my head and press the cool sea glass against the side of my nose. I hear another knock and I close my eyes.
She knocks three more times before she opens the door.
"You have a visitor, Katniss," Prim says softly. If she thinks that will make me turn around she's delusional. I curl my knees to my chest and hold my breath, waiting for the door to close again. Prim knows I'm not in a state to speak to anyone so why is she pushing this?
"It's OK, Posy, go around the bed. Katniss misses you very much, too," Prim says softly and I hear a series of steps move around the room while I panic internally. Posy Hawthorne? Prim knows better than to bring her here, where depression reigns and hopelessness cloaks the room like a heavy cloud. She's too young for that.
"Posy has a present for you, Katniss, so I said that she should bring it to you in person," Prim explains, her voice muffled by the blankets that cover my head.
I don't have time to respond before I feel someone pull the covers away from my face. Through my eyelids I can tell that the curtains are still closed so I'm silently thankful that Prim hasn't reopened them. When I open my eyes I'm met with a pair of large grey ones. Posy smiles shyly at me.
"Hey Posy," I croak, not bothering to remove the sea glass from where it's slid down my cheek. Posy smiles again, exposing her tiny little teeth before hiding her face in Prim's skirt.
"Go on, Pose," Prim urges nicely. "She'll love them."
With Prim's encouragement, Posy pulls something out of her pocket and places it on the bed next to my face.
"Happy Birthday, Katty," Posy quips, "they're pretty. Like you." Posy pats my head like a dog before following Prim out of the room.
It's my birthday? It's May already? I mean to say something back to her—anything, really— but the heap of dandelions Posy left on my bed paralyzes me. My muscles move by themselves and before I know it, I'm gripping the weeds tightly in my hand.
There's no way she could have known, absolutely no way.
Some unknown force launches me out of my bed so fast that I get a little dizzy. I stand in my room for a moment, just staring at the dandelions I'm gripping in one hand and the sea glass I'm clutching in the other. I move across the room slowly and with no clue where I might end up. All I know is that I can't be in that bed right now. When I reach my door I falter for a moment.
I'm going insane, I think to myself before I slowly open my bedroom door and walk out onto the landing.
"You need to tell her, Gale," I hear Madge say quietly. They're at the bottom of the stairs but I've moved so quietly that they haven't heard me appear yet.
"Absolutely not. It would ruin everything if I did, you know that," Gale mutters back. I stand still and even though they haven't said so, I know they're talking about me.
"It's not fair to her," Madge says again, her voice full of an emotion I can't quite pinpoint. She's looking at him with pleading eyes.
"I don't care if it's not fair. Everything that we've done would have been for nothing if she finds out. You know that, Madge," Gale pushes, his eyes downcast and his expression sullen.
"Kitty!" Posy says from behind me, making me jump and hit the wall forcefully. Gale and Madge stop talking immediately.
I gulp loudly, trying to understand what the hell Gale and Madge could have been talking about. My mind is swimming with the possibilities. Why would Gale think it's a bad idea to tell me about their relationship? Does he think it would upset me for reasons other than that it would remind me of Peeta? Or are they talking about something else entirely?
Madge's cheeks have turned bright red and I'm gripping the dandelions so tightly I'm sure they're completely ruined by now. I look between the two of them, unsure of how to handle the situation properly. Right when I'm about to open my mouth, Madge bounds up the stairs and pulls me into a tight hug.
My arms come around her small shoulders warily and she pulls away soon after. Madge doesn't look at me as she goes back down the stairs but she shoots Gale one of the dirtiest looks I've seen a person give anyone in my life. I hear the front door close loudly behind her as she leaves.
For two people who rarely talk to each other, Gale and Madge sure seem to be going through some sort of weird trial. I don't care about their relationship, though. I really don't. I'm more concerned with what they were talking about earlier. So when my mind clears enough for me to think plainly I speak.
"I need to talk to you," I state clearly, directing the words at Gale, whose face is completely unreadable.
"Now," I add quietly before walking into my bathroom, leaving a confused Posy at the top of the stairs. I wait before Gale has closed the door and turned on all the faucets before I speak.
"What can't I know, Gale?" I ask him. I put my thoughts of Peeta in a tiny, locked compartment of my brain to deal with later. For now, I need to prove to Gale that I can handle whatever he thinks I can't because I have a feeling it's important.
"Nothing, Catnip. It's nothing," Gale responds, crossing his arms over his chest. I stand up straighter and look him straight in the eyes, hoping to convey what I believe to be a lethal expression.
"You're lying to me. Is it about the rebellion? I told you I want to help and I'm more than capable of doing that."
I don't even try to hide the hope that's laced behind my words. It has to be about the rebellion. Why else would they be speaking in puzzles? If it were really about their relationship they would be discussing that at one of their houses.
Gale pauses and then sighs deeply before he speaks.
"I know that. Believe me, I am waiting for the day I can tell you something about the rebellion. I want you to help. But there's nothing you or I can do right now. We are doing everything that we can. Believe me when I say that." he says quietly, looking at me sadly. I stare him down and as the seconds pass so do any semblance of hope I might have had about the future. I guess I was wrong.
I swallow thickly and change the subject.
"It's about Madge, then."
Gale turns his face away from me and he frowns deeply.
"You like her. Is that what I couldn't know?"
Gale huffs and turns to me again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"No. I…I don't, it's…" he stumbles. Gale seems to be visibly angry but there's something else in his eyes. Confusion? It would be hilarious under different circumstances.
"Gale," I say quietly. "If you like her, I think you should tell her. Life's too short."
I leave him in the bathroom and crawl back into my bed. He turns the faucets off slowly and I can hear him pause before he leaves my room. I think maybe he wanted to say something. Either way, it's too late now.
It happens when the sun is setting and we are sitting down to dinner. Mother places a dish of something in front of me on the table and I catch a movement out the window in a small corner of my periphery.
Pink hair.
I stand up slowly, unsure if I'm hallucinating or not. Mother freezes by the sink when she hears the scrap of my chair legs on the wooden floor. Prim glances up at me from her seat across the table but I ignore her worried look. My legs carry me rather quickly to the window and when I look out across the street I'm filled so rapidly with such an all-consuming rage that I need to grip the windowsill to keep from stumbling.
There is a camera crew on the lawn in front of Peeta's house.
I haven't been able to think clearly for the longest time but for some reason, seeing a Capitol camera crew on Peeta's territory, fills me with a purpose I haven't possessed in months. My jaw sets painfully and I turn on my heel and march up the steps with surprising calm, turn into my bathroom, grab my bow and arrows and march straight back downstairs.
"Katniss, no!" Prim shouts but I pay her no notice. It's all so clear right now: I need to protect him. He isn't here, I know that, but his house across the street is still his and I'm possessive to the point where I haven't even stepped inside it yet.
I throw my front door open with such force that it slams loudly against the outside wall and knocks a potted plant off the window ledge. The noise grabs the attention of the pink haired reporter and her crew across the street. They seem to have been in the middle of some telecast. They all turn in my direction but I've already let an arrow fly, sending it straight across the lawn into the lens of the Capitol video camera. The glass of the lens shatters and the man who was holding it drops it to the ground, screeching like a small girl. I fly down the steps and string another arrow in the process.
The three Capitolites stand on Peeta's lawn like statues, too frightened to move. I'm 20 feet from them when the pink-haired reporter woman moves, scurrying back against the side of the porch, her eyes wide with terror.
Too bad I destroyed the camera, I think to myself. A shot of the elusive, heart-broken Katniss Everdeen would have been media gold.
The cameraman stumbles over his own feet and lands heavily in the grass while the other man, who is covered in a series of black face tattoos, backs towards the wall of Peeta's house. I don't know who I should point my next arrow at but I ultimately decide for the pink-haired woman, probably because her garish appearance reminds me so easily of the man who destroyed my life.
"Get out," I say menacingly. When the woman doesn't immediately respond, I send my arrow into the wood column four inches from her face. She screams and my heart beats against my ribs. I'm afraid that if they don't leave soon, I may actually kill her and her henchmen. I don't want to, but right now I don't think I'm fully responsible for what's happening.
"I said," I say so quietly I know they have to strain to hear me, "Get. Out."
The cameraman to my right struggles to get up and backs away, almost tripping again in the process. The pink-haired woman slides against the porch until she runs out of house, her head trembling on her thin, bejeweled neck. When she reaches the man with the tattoos, she grabs his arm and he starts leading her away.
"If you come back here, I assure you I won't miss," I spit with every ounce of venom I can muster. "They say I'm a reliable shot."
My parting words send the three of them running down the street and into town, likely to catch the next train back to the Capitol. As they turn the corner, my hands start to shake violently and every ounce of confidence I previously held disappears entirely from my body.
I turn back to my house to see my mother holding a crying Prim against her chest. It occurs to me rather suddenly that she's never seen me shoot in person; her first experience was of me attacking another human. It's the exact opposite of what I wanted for her. It's a part of the reason I volunteered at the Reaping. My stomach sinks to my toes when I realize I've tarnished her anyway.
I hear a loud thump from somewhere behind me and turn to see that Haymitch has thrown open his door and is currently running down his porch steps looking ill in the face.
I clutch the bow to my chest tightly and try to ignore the pounding behind my ears.
What have I done?
"Inside, sweetheart," Haymitch says gravely. "Inside, now." I'm stuck in a state of panicked shock so I don't question Haymitch as he leads me into Peeta's house, even though I'm absolutely positive I am not ready for this.
Haymitch opens Peeta's front door and switches on the light. I'm crying before I even cross the threshold.
"Please," I beg. "Not here. I can't." I focus on Haymitch's face, knowing that if I look anywhere else I may dissolve into a full-blown mental breakdown. His house is too much. It smells like him and the realization has my heart palpitating painfully against my sternum.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" Haymitch seethes. His eyes are burning and surprisingly clear. I shake my head at his question and grip my bow so tightly I think it might snap.
"You've actually lost your mind, haven't you?" Haymitch whispers and for the life of me, I cannot tell if he is being serious or not. I start to blubber incoherently at him, which only seems to confirm to both of us that I have absolutely lost my mind.
"They're going to send the Peacekeeper's here soon. You know that?"
I didn't know that.
"You're in deep shit, now," Haymitch says. "You stay here. I'm getting your family."
I watch as Haymitch slams Peeta's front door behind him, and I blindly try to wipe the tears from my eyes. It doesn't take long for Haymitch to gather my mother and my sister and before I know it, they're being ushered through Peeta's front door. At the sight of Prim's tear-filled face, I drop my bow on the floor and pull her into my arms.
"I'm sorry, Prim," I whisper, trying to stop my tears and failing. Everything is unraveling fast and I know in the pit of my stomach that this is bad. Very bad. Not only have I put myself in danger, I've more or less signed my family's death warrant. It was only a matter of time before I snapped, I just did it in front of the wrong people.
"Upstairs," Haymitch says quietly and I hug Prim tighter.
"No!" I wail, filled with a completely different sort of panic. "I can't go there. He's—"
"If it makes you feel better, you'll probably be joining him in the greater beyond soon enough," Haymitch spits with an anger I haven't seen from him. Haymitch rips me from Prim and throws me towards the stairs. I stumble on my feet, and suck my sobs back into my body.
I tremble as I follow him up the stairs and into Peeta's bathroom, not even bothering to wipe my tears, which are now flowing heavily down my cheeks.
"You listen to me," Haymitch says carefully. "Once the Peacekeepers find out about this, you're done. They're not like old Cray anymore. They'll whip you in front of District 12. But once Snow finds out about this, he'll probably come for you himself. I have a feeling this is the excuse he's been waiting for to come snatch you up. When that happens, death would be the easier option."
My mind spins as I try to process Haymitch's words. It's not easy, especially considering I'm in Peeta's bathroom and it smells so strongly of him. The combination of what just happened and being so close to Peeta, yet so far, is devastating.
"My family?" I choke out. Haymitch looks at me carefully.
"You know already," he says softly.
And I do. They'll be eliminated.
I don't say anything more to Haymitch. Instead, I nod and silently follow him back out of the bathroom, avoiding looking at Peeta's room even though I know I might not be alive much longer anyway.
When I get back downstairs, Haymitch tells my mother and sister to go hide in the basement, which they do wordlessly. Before they go, I give them each a quick hug, too overwhelmed to say or do anything more meaningful. Haymitch leaves the house and I don't ask him why.
I pick my bow and arrows up off the floor, sit against the wall across from the front door and wait.
An hour passes when I hear someone walk up the front steps. I move to a kneeling position and string an arrow, but the person who comes through the door is not one I expect.
"What are you doing here?" I ask Rye, lowering my arrow slightly.
Rye looks me over and when he determines that I won't shoot, he moves inside.
"I want to be here," Rye says as he closes the door behind him carefully. His answer is stupid and I know that he can see it in my face. He smiles, anyway, not one to be perturbed by my dourness. Definitely not one to be perturbed by the situation.
"You want to be here?" I ask flatly.
"That new Peacekeeper, Thread, I think," Rye continues. "He's been cracking down on everyone. Madge told me what happened this evening and I knew that someone needed to be here with you. In case Thread comes," he explains.
"He will come," I answer back. I've already accepted it.
"I know he will," Rye says.
"So why put yourself in danger? I've dug my own grave, you don't need to jump in there with me," I snap and Rye looks annoyed by my outburst.
"Because my little brother loved you," he responds with an edge to his tone, looking at me straight in the eyes. "I want to honor him somehow. God knows I didn't do it before. So if that means I put myself in danger trying to protect you, so be it."
He's such an idiot. Why doesn't he just stay in the safety of his home in Town? He'll be killed if he stays here with me and I know that Peeta wouldn't want that. More people dead at my hands. The thought makes me sick.
"I can protect myself. I think I pretty much proved that point earlier today," I argue, lowering my bow completely even though Rye is frustrating me so much I have the urge to shoot him anyway.
"Who says that protecting yourself is just a physical skill?"
This silences me. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that I cannot protect myself emotionally. I tried, but his damn brother peeled away my layers until I was completely exposed. I trusted that he would always protect me, considering I left myself so open to him. But now that he's not here anymore, I don't want to trust anyone. I look at Rye and see understanding flash in his eyes.
"You sound like him," I whisper, wishing immediately I could take the words and put them back in my mouth. I will not shed tears in front of this man. Rye sighs and sits down next to the closed front door.
"Thank you," he says, leaning back against the wall. I put my head in my hands and wait for it all to be over.
I sit in anxious silence for hours, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon from the place I've taken up on the floor. Rye has tried to make conversation, tried to crack a joke here and there but it's all been in vain. He must know it's the end as well. In a moment of absolute weakness I grabbed Peeta's old sweater off the back of the couch and pulled it over my head. It's funny how easy it is allow myself to sink into my feelings for him when I know what's coming. Why deprive myself of this one thing? If I'm going to be killed, I may as well take my last breath while breathing in the scent of him. That's the only comfort I can think of in the moment.
I pull the collar of the sweater higher and rub the material against my cheek. I don't cry but my eyes burn because they've been open for so long. My mind is oddly blank.
I'm about to ask Rye what time is when I hear a loud rumbling from outside, followed by a flashing of lights.
This is it, I think. They've come for me.
I stand up slowly and knock an arrow. Rye stands as well, drawing a large knife that he pulled from the kitchen earlier. We share a silent glance before there is a pounding on the front porch. I pull the arrow back. We locked the door after Rye arrived, knowing full well that if someone wanted to come in, they could. We figured that the extra time would be beneficial anyway. I pray that once they find me, they won't search the rest of the house and that somehow my mother and sister will be spared. I've wanted Prim with me the last few hours but I know it's safer for her to be downstairs, hidden in the dark.
Please just let Prim be OK.
But as I watch someone kick in Peeta's door, I know that isn't a possibility. I've failed her. I've failed to do the one thing I swore to do when my father died: protect Prim. The disgust I feel for myself is something I cannot put into words.
I swallow thickly—my throat's gone dry. A thousand thoughts run through my head in this moment, but none of them are coherent. They're more like a series of small moments. Prim laughing as lady licks her cheek. Swimming in the lake outside of 12 with my father. Hunting with Gale. Trading in the Hob. Kissing Peeta in the cave. Yelling at Haymitch. Holding Peeta's hand. Watching Prim dance at Mayor Undersee's house. Running to Peeta's house in the dark. Watching Madge play the piano. Kissing Peeta in my bathroom. Peeta's body pressing me into his mattress on our last night together. Peeta, Peeta, Peeta.
Someone finally kicks the door in and I move to the corner, out of sight, aiming the arrow at the foyer.
"Do you have visual confirmation?" I hear someone ask. The voice is deep and gravelly and one I definitely do not recognize.
"Let me in first, Boggs, she won't come to you," I hear someone respond, the voice registering briefly in my mind. I glance at Rye again but his eyes are trained on the door.
"Katniss?" I hear someone ask into the dark. I creep even further into the corner. The arms of Peeta's sweater are too big and I know that they will impede my shot so I'm filled with a blind panic when someone turns the corner into Peeta's living room. I start to fumble with the bow but it slips from my fingers completely when I see who it is.
"What the…" Rye trails off.
It's absolutely him. He's unmistakable, especially the way the moonlight plays lightly off his bronze hair. I can see the green in his eyes even all the way from across the dark room. I try to legitimize Finnick Odair's presence but come up empty.
"Hey there Girl on Fire," Finnick says through the dark. He is wearing a dark, thick uniform and he puts something into a pocket on the front of his jacket. "Now I'd love to catch up but I'm afraid we're on a bit of a tight schedule. The shit hit the fan fairly quickly so we need to get out of here. If you could follow me that would be supreme," he says with a dazzling smile.
Finnick presses against his ear and speaks into a headpiece.
"Target spotted, prepare for launch."
I don't move, my muscles have frozen solid. Finnick's alive? It can't be possible. It's impossible and yet he's here. Somewhere deep inside of me something I thought was long dead reawakens. Finnick moves towards me and on instinct I grab the fallen bow and restring the arrow, pointing it directly at his chest.
"Woahh," Finnick nearly shouts, raising his hands up in surrender. "Believe me when I say you're going to want to follow me. The people that are next in line to see you will not be as pleasant."
"Maybe you could explain to us what the fuck is going on," Rye hisses from his spot next to me. Finnick turns his head quickly in his direction and I see his eyebrows raise slightly.
"Well hey there! Another Mellark. You know, I don't think your baby bro is going to be too happy with you when I tell him you've been shacking up with his girl in his old house," Finnick says lightly.
Just like that, my limbs to turn ice.
"What did you say?" I snap, forcing my heart back down my throat. Finnick looks at me again. "What did you just say?" I say again, softer.
"About your guy?" Finnick asks. "Hasn't anyone told you?"
I stare back at him in confusion, my bow trembling in my hands. Finnick's mouth drops open a little as he looks at me.
"Oh, shit," he whispers, looking quickly between Rye and myself. "You don't know, do you. Peeta's in District 13, Katniss. He's alive."
My fingers slip and the arrow I was holding clatters to the floor.
Alive.
Peeta's alive.
I feel faint and my breath comes out in a shallow gasp. Finnick nods slowly, smiling. I scowl at him instantly. He's lying to me, he must be. But deep down—deep, deep, down—I want to believe that he isn't. My thoughts start running rampant in my head, carrying me away with them. He was still breathing when the rocks collapsed.
He was breathing.
A series of gunshots bring me out of my reverie.
"You need to come with me," Finnick says, much more serious now. "We're taking you to District 13."
Finnick strides towards me and takes my arm gently. It's only when he's pulling me towards the door do I remember.
"No!" I yell. "No, my family is downstairs!" I plead struggling against Finnick's grasp. He pauses and looks towards Rye who has not left my side.
"You get them," Finnick orders, pulling me towards the door again. "Quick, too. If the bombs haven't started dropping now, they're bound to start."
I begin to panic now, and I try franticly to pull away from Finnick's hold.
"What? No, I won't leave without my mother and Prim!" I scream. "No!" And then I remember Gale and the Hawthornes and Madge and Haymitch and struggle absolutely against Finnick, who holds me tightly against his chest. Nothing makes sense. Finnick shouldn't be here. He's lying. Finnick is lying and Peeta is dead. He's always been dead. This is all clearly some elaborately planned trick. I try to aim a few punches at Finnick's face but he dodges them before forcing my arms down and behind me.
"God, Peeta wasn't lying when he said you'd be difficult," Finnick mutters. He's too strong, and my bow drops to the ground, causing me to struggle even more against his stone-like grasp. I see Rye reappear with my mother and Prim, both of whom look terrified.
"Prim!" I scream, whipping my head back and forth, hoping to knock Finnick out so I can get away. "Let go of me!" I screech, clawing at his hands and thinking of the bombs that are going to rain down on Gale and Madge and Haymitch. "My friends, please!"
"If you don't stop, Everdeen, I'm going to have to sedate you," Finnick says clearly. If his words are supposed to have a calming affect, they do the exact opposite. I flail against him, making unintelligible noises of protest. I'm about to shout at Rye to make a run for it when I feel Finnick search for something in his pocket.
"Fine then. Don't say I didn't warn you," he says before I feel a sharp pain in my side. I look wildly around the dark room, my eyes landing on Prim's as she is rushed passed me. My limbs begin to turn heavy and I slump uselessly against Finnick's arms. He lifts me up over his shoulder and starts to carry me through Peeta's front door. My vision twists and rolls. Finnick's voice seems faint as he calls something into his headpiece. I can make out an unnatural amount of bright light before I'm pulled under completely.